


Risen

by fenrirliving



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Death Knight, Original Character(s), Prologue, Was going to be chapter one but I messed up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 01:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5271710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenrirliving/pseuds/fenrirliving
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xandrson is risen into a world unknown, a place where ghouls and gargoyles roam freely.</p><p>As a new weapon forged in darkness, he must strike the innocent without mercy and follow his king's murderous will while he whispers bloody commands into the Death Knight's dead soul.</p><p>The Lich King's will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Risen

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be chapter one, but I horribly screwed up while trying to edit in my notes and deleted the last portion of it.
> 
> Yeah, very unamused.

PROLOGUE

I was laying on my back, fingers gripping the cold dirt beneath me. What was this? I remember myself asking the same question over and over again. Except it didn't feel like me. Nothing felt like me. My hands, legs, head, nothing. 

I stared up at the grey sky above me, eyes not even blinking once. I felt like a shadow of myself. Alive but barely breathing. 

Dead. I felt dead. 

I knew I should've been. 

Hazy memories of glory on the battle field came rushing back. The familiar feeling of blood and honour coursed through the battle-torn knight's armor that was still clinging to my body. The shiny steel was no longer so, and the Alliance blue tabard was torn in strips. As I felt at the worn fabric and contemplated why I was buried like this, it occurred to me that I wasn't. I wasn't buried.

Our whole unit was wiped out that night. The Horde had seen right through our plans of an ambush, and crushed us, keeping body parts as souvenirs. I was the last one to die, being forced to watch my brothers get slaughtered before they finally put the sword to the Commander's neck. My neck.

I stirred, expecting a wave of sadness. But there was none. I had no trace of sentimentality left within me, not even regret. I felt cold, angry, soulless. Most of all, I felt strong. Powerful. 

I stirred a bit more in my hollow grave before a stern voice chimed.

"My lord, it seems this one has awaken." 

There was the sound of boots on dead leaves before a deeper, darker voice replied. This time only a short distance above me.

"Yes, and a soldier it seems. Blood already runs through this ones veins." He let out a wrathful laugh. "Yes. He will do just fine, Mograine. Send him to the initiation." 

I watched intently as the tall man dressed in deathly silver glided away, leaving his companion with me. 

"What is your name, knight?" 

"Xandrson."

The name startled me; or at least it would have if I genuinely cared. The voice that escaped my lips was like Mograine's. It was cold, twisted, and seemed to fade at the ends in a dark whisper. 

"You've been dead for a long time." He gazed. "Get up, your legs still work. It is time you proved your worth." 

Without hesitation, I twisted my body so that I could use my hands to push myself up. Now standing it became clear to me that the steel that covered my body was broken and dented into grooves in my skin, and a dark, faded stain lacing certain places was the blood I had shed when I fell. 

"Most of the dead that are risen by the Valk'ry are confused beyond measure, but not you. What do you feel, knight?" 

I stood up straight before him, examining my surroundings. The words that came out of my mouth wouldn't have been my own in a past life. 

"Born anew." I reached for the tags that still gripped my neck. "Angry, merciless. I feel a great darkness being pushed at every direction of my unworthy soul." 

I ripped the tags off my neck and dropped them to the ground beside me. Mograine watched with hungry eyes. 

He unsheathed his blade and pointed it in the direction of crimson tents. Distant screams echoed from the area. 

"That, Xandrson, is where we will decide if you are truly worthy of the Death Knight name. Go now, and hold your tongue." He almost growled the words. "Do not expect a warm welcome." 

And with that, he went on his way to continue searching for any "new arrivals", leaving me gazing at the tents nearby.


End file.
